


The Face Of God

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Breathplay, Drug Use, Love Confessions, M/M, Marijuana, Meandering conversation, Oral Sex, Pining, Podfic Welcome, Polyamory, Rimming, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 11:19:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17263301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: "I've come into possession of a lot of good weed. You want to, uh... indulge?"Ryan pulled back, giving Shane a skeptical look. "You do know it's legal now, right?""Well, yeah," said Shane, and it was his turn to blush, "But still. It's, y'know, gauche to talk about that kinda thing loudly in the office."Shane and Ryan get high together.





	The Face Of God

**Author's Note:**

> I do not have a whole lot of experience with smoking weed - I did my best to research, but I apologize for any inaccuracies in text.
> 
> A million billion thank yous to my excellent beta, Cinco!

Ryan Bergara was a highly strung individual. 

Everyone knew it - even he knew it, although he'd deny it if asked. He liked to project the image of being laid back, relaxed. He'd even go so far as to call himself "cool," although at this point he just did it ironically, because who would call themselves "cool" in this day and age? 

But he was aware that he was a bit... jumpy. Twitchy. That he needed to relax a bit. It was just... well, it could be difficult to do, what with one thing and another.

It had been... worse lately. Between the state of the world in general ( _urgh_ ), or the fact that the channel was having a slower time of things as it left the honeymoon phase ( _what if nobody actually likes us?!_ ), or the fact that he had a giant crush on Shane ( _he's in a relationship and also if things went pear-shaped it would be the kind of bad that ruined careers_ ), and who even knew what else. 

He didn't realize how bad it was until Shane patted him on the shoulder at work and he nearly screamed.

Shane looked down at him with a concerned expression. "Are you, uh... are you okay?"

Ryan put a hand over his chest, breathing heavily. He was blushing, although he wasn't entirely sure why he was blushing. Well, obviously, he was embarrassed, but what was he embarrassed by? His crush? His twitchiness?

"Ryan," Shane said, snapping Ryan out of his reverie, "Are you alright?"

"Sorry," said Ryan. "Bit spacey. Been a little stressed."

"You don't say," Shane said, his voice as dry as dust. "I can, uh... help you relax, if you'd like." Shane looked... furtive, which was an odd expression on his craggy face. 

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "What are you offering, exactly?"

Shane leaned over in his seat so that he was speaking right in Ryan's ear, his breath ticklish. It took Ryan effort to keep from shivering. "I've come into possession of a lot of good weed. You want to, uh... indulge?" 

Ryan pulled back, giving Shane a skeptical look. "You do know it's legal now, right?"

"Well, yeah," said Shane, and it was his turn to blush, "But still. It's, y'know, gauche to talk about that kinda thing loudly in the office."

"I do believe that's the most country club you've ever been," Ryan said, snickering. "'Gauche.' You should have a sweater draped over your shoulders and a pair of yacht shoes on when you say that."

Shane rolled his eyes. "As if they'd ever let someone with a last name like Madej into a country club," he countered. 

"You could have aspirations," Ryan volleyed. 

"Not to be around that bunch," said Shane. "So can I come over?"

"If you're offering me this apparently excellent hook up, why do you want to come to my place instead of me going to your place?" Ryan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. 

"Because marijuana smoke is bad for Obi," Shane said primly. 

"Oh my god, Shane," Ryan said, rolling his eyes. 

"Listen," said Shane, "I hold this small animal's life in my hands, and it isn't fair of me to endanger it just for a cheap thrill."

"If this weed is as good as you say it is, it probably isn't cheap," Ryan pointed out.

Shane grimaced. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Oh yeah," said Ryan. "Like a lamp post."

Shane rolled his eyes, but then he met Ryan's and raised an eyebrow. "So how about it? You wanna?" 

"... sure," Ryan replied, although this was probably a bad idea. Weed always made him lazy and silly and overly affectionate. Not a good idea when you had a crush on someone. But a chance to relax a bit might be nice. Unless he got paranoid, which was _also_ a possibility. "Although, uh...."

"What's up?"

"I sometimes get kinda... weird when I'm high," said Ryan. "Paranoia, y'know?"

"Don't worry about it, buddy," said Shane, and he patted Ryan on the shoulder. "I'll watch over you."

"Thanks," Ryan said, trying not to smile too widely. Oh _god_. He really had it bad, didn't he?

"Back to work," said Shane, pulling a face, and then he put his headphones back over his ears and leaned in to type. 

* * *

"So I'm going to stop by my place to pick up... stuff," said Shane, and it was pretty hilarious how cagey his face went.

"Stuff," Ryan echoed. "You mean the ganja? The wacky tabaccy? The-"

"If you list every synonym for weed we're gonna be here until tomorrow morning, and everyone will get the wrong idea." 

"What kind of wrong idea would that be?" Ryan looked at Shane sidelong, trying to understand whatever it was that was crossing Shane's face.

"So I'll meet you at your place," Shane said, sidestepping the question. "See you there in... an hour?"

"Sounds like a plan, big guy," said Ryan. He was missing something. He was _definitely_ missing something. He just didn't know what. 

* * *

Ryan cleaned his apartment.

He didn’t clean much - he didn’t want it to _look_ like it had been cleaned, he just wanted to make it clear he didn’t live like a slob. Although mainly he just tidied away some papers - it wasn’t as if he was worried about anything else, right? 

God, he was thinking too hard about this, wasn’t he?

This was just two guys getting together to smoke some weed. Totally normal. Totally a thing that people did together. Guys. A thing that two guys who were friends did together. 

… Why was he so goddamn anxious about this? So okay, he had a bit of a crush on Shane, but… he’d been able to handle it in the past. He’d had crushes on people in the past, he’d gotten high with people in the past, he’d… well, he’d done some dumb stuff. But it would be fine.

It would all be fine. 

* * * 

Shane looked shady as he walked into Ryan’s apartment. It was… well, it was a sight. There was just so _much_ of him, and he was trying to make it look like there wasn’t. His shoulders were hunched, his hands were shoved into his pockets, and he had even turned his jacket collar up.

“You _do_ know it’s legal now, right?” Ryan said for the second time in twenty-four hours, closing and locking the door behind Shane. And then Shane shoved a baggie of weed into his chest. He grabbed it before it could fall on the floor. 

“I know that, like, logically,” said Shane. “But… you know, twenty-something years of being shifty has just kinda stuck around.” 

“Only twenty years?” Ryan wrinkled his nose - the weed was strong enough that he could pick up the pungent aroma through the plastic. “I dunno, man. I’ve seen pictures. You looked like a pretty shifty baby.”

“I was a pretty shifty baby,” Shane agreed. He rocked on the balls of his feet, still wearing his shoes. “So… you up for some wacky tobaccy?” 

Ryan groaned, rolling his eyes. “I cannot _believe_ that I have heard that word for the second time in less than twenty four hours,” he told Shane, moving deeper into his apartment and then pulling a chair back from the dining room table and depositing the baggie of weed on it. “But sure. Let’s do this.”

“You were the one who said it the first time,” Shane protested, then; “I’ve got, uh, other stuff too.” He toed his shoes off and walking towards Ryan, still managing to look faintly shady in the light of Ryan’s living room. His socks were bright green with yellow cactuses dancing across them. Sara had probably bought them for him.

“Other stuff?” Ryan rubbed his hands together, shifting in his seat - he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Should he have already taken the weed out of the baggie, or what? 

“You know,” said Shane, and he dug around in his pocket and then placed a lighter and what looked like a pack of gum on the dining room table. “Other stuff.”

Ryan picked up the little packet, squinting at the label. Oh. Rolling papers. Right. “Thanks,” he said. He wasn’t going to mention that he had his own stash of all of that - he didn’t want Shane to feel like he'd wasted money, did he?

“So, uh, I’m no good at this,” Shane said as he pulled up a chair and sat down. “For a warning.”

“No?” Ryan opened the bag and then wrinkled his nose. God, that was strong - he was going to need to air his apartment out when this was done. 

“Nope,” Shane said. “I don’t do it that often. I’m pretty out of practice.” 

Ryan took out a piece of paper and reached into the little baggie. “This seems like pretty good weed,” he told Shane. “Why’d you get it, if you don’t do it that often?”

“Oh,” said Shane casually, “I didn’t get it. This is Sara’s, technically.” 

“Does Sara know you’re smoking her weed? Is she okay with it?” He didn’t ask “Is Sara okay with _me_ smoking her weed,” but it was strongly implied. He even paused in the familiar motion of sprinkling weed on the paper - no use in putting the effort in if he wasn’t going to be able to smoke it.

“She's more than okay with it,” said Shane. “I can assure you of that.” He smiled crookedly. “Her new squeeze works at a dispensary and is always going on about this or that new strain, or bringing them for us to try.”

Ryan coughed and turned his face away so as not to disturb the weed as his mind reeled. “Sorry, new squeeze?”

“Yeah,” said Shane. He wasn’t looking at Ryan’s face in a way that he probably meant to be casual, but he was clenching his jaw - Ryan could see the little muscle jumping. “We, uh, we met them at a party a while ago and the two of them hit it off.”

“You guys are polyamorous?” Why was this such a shock? It wasn’t as if polyamory was a new concept for him, or anything like that. Hell, he’d revealed his real-world knowledge of it on the show! So why was he spinning? 

… If he was younger and dumber, he might have blamed the (still dry, unsmoked) weed in front of him. Because he wasn’t quite that young and dumb anymore, he had to at least try to acknowledge that it was mostly his own feelings.

“Yeah,” said Shane, leaning back in his chair. It creaked ominously, and he sat up straight again before slumping back more slowly. “We, uh… we’ve been doing it for a few months now.”

“You didn’t think to tell me?” Ryan went back to rolling the joint and then set it aside. It wasn’t the prettiest one he’d ever made, but it was serviceable. “Do you, uh… do you want to share, or should we each -”

“Make a few,” said Shane. “I’m not going anywhere tonight. Did you have plans?”

_Being high makes me horny, so I was planning on kicking you out and masturbating like a fiend_ was on the edge of Ryan’s tongue. “Nope,” popped out of his mouth, and then he took another rolling paper and set about making a few more joints just to be on the safe side. The motions were familiar, almost comforting. His fingers were on autopilot, and they worked better when he wasn’t thinking. 

Shane shot Ryan a crooked smile, and Ryan blushed all the way to his ears. 

“So, uh, fair warning,” Shane said, “I turn into a space cadet when I’m stoned.”

“As opposed to when you’re sober,” Ryan said, deadpan. 

Shane rolled his eyes. “Do you have any weirdness I need to look out for? Other than your usual… self.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and hastily changed the subject. “Any particular reason why you wanted to get high with me, instead of Sara and her new squeeze?” … wait, shit, did that sound too hostile? Fuck. “Not that I mind,” Ryan added quickly. “You’re always welcome here.” And that was too sincere. Goddammit.

“Sara’s a little sick of weed talk and being around high people,” said Shane, “And we can’t smoke much around Obi.”

“”I was wondering about that earlier. Can cats not tolerate it or something?” Ryan carefully rolled the second joint. 

“Basically, yeah,” said Shane. “It’s not very good for them.” He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. “I didn’t tell you because I worried it’d weird you out,” he said, and something about his tone made Ryan look him in the face.

“What, that marijuana is bad for cats?” Ryan’s brow furrowed.

Shane rolled his eyes. “No, Ryan,” he said in his long-suffering tone. “That me and Sara are polyamorous.”

“Oh,” said Ryan. “Right. Well… I’m not weirded out. I know polyamorous people. I, uh… I’ve been interested in it. In the past. Although it never panned out, so it doesn’t matter.”

“See, if I was, like, pansexual, that joke would have been perfect,” Shane said, throwing his hands in the air. “Damn our sexualities, getting in the way of a good pun!”

“I dunno,” Ryan said thoughtfully. “I’m sure I could think of some good ones. Eventually.”

“Well,” Shane said, reaching out to tap one of the joints, “I suspect we’re both about to think of a million funnier things.”

There was something thoughtful in the back of Shane’s eyes, but Ryan couldn’t place it. 

Oh well. He’d worry about it later. 

“All done,” he told Shane. “You ready?” 

Shane grinned with quite a few teeth in that grin. “Baby, I was _born_ ready.”

* * *

Ryan didn’t cough when he took his first pull. 

Shane did, and Ryan let himself have a few moments of smugness, because if you don’t get to be smug about your equally smug friend messing up, when can you? 

The weed was very green, and the sensation of smoke in his mouth made his head spin and his chest go a little tight. 

They passed a joint back and forth even though Ryan had rolled four, and Ryan tried to ignore the little thrill he got each time he wrapped his lips around the paper where Shane’s lips had been. 

“We should move,” Shane said suddenly, “Before it’s too hard.”

“Right,’ Ryan agreed. “That, uh… that makes sense." 

His head was already swimming a bit. Was he stoned, was he horny, was he infatuated? Who the fuck knew? 

* * *

Ryan, high as the lightning rod on a skyscraper and thinking deep, profound thoughts, took another pull of the joint and stared up at the smoke he’d exhaled as it spiraled up towards the ceiling. He was sitting in his most comfortable chair with his feet propped up on his coffee table, his legs stretched out in front of him. They seemed to be remote as the moon. “Hey, Shane?” 

“Mmm?” Shane was sprawled out on the couch, his head cushioned on one arm and his feet dangling over the other end towards Ryan. His legs seemed to go on for _miles_ , like a particularly fancy version of the Golden Gate Bridge. Although - was Ryan’s mind going down that route because Shane was bending his knees? That might be it. They needed to string wires from Shane’s thighs to his knees to really complete the look. 

“You ever done, like… shibari?” That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He wasn’t sure what he’d meant to say, but it seemed like bad form to talk about rope bondage with your buddy. Let alone your buddy who you had a crush on who was about as inebriated as you were. Wait. did intoxicated count when it came to weed, or was it just booze? 

Ryan was aware of his thoughts as little metal balls, like the ones in a Newton’s cradle. He wanted to lock them up in a vault - he pictured his mind as one of those ridiculous giant bank vaults, the kind with the rotating knobs like a ship’s wheel would have. Like the wives were imprisoned in, in _Mad Max: Fury Road_. 

“Is that some cool new street drug?” Shane sat up just enough to grab the joint, and then he took a pull of it and held the smoke in his chest, then lazily exhaled out of his nose. It was sexier than it should have been.

“No, man,” said Ryan. “It’s… shit. Thing.” He waved his hands ineffectually, trying to find the shape of the word so he could figure out the rest of it. “Bondage. Rope bondage. The fancy kind of Japanese rope bondage.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done it, no,” Shane said slowly. “I’ve seen pictures, if that helps?”

“Right,” said Ryan. He looked at the line of Shane’s profile - Shane had a face that could be described as “aqualine,” with a craggy nose and brow, and a bit of a receding chin. “You ever want to, like, bite someone’s face?” 

Shane sat up a bit and then shuffled around so his head was facing towards Ryan, his long legs going off into the middle distance. “That was a bit of a derail,” he said. 

Ryan took the joint and inhaled the smoke - burnt gingerbread mixed with skunk. “Like… you look at someone’s face, and you just wanna… sink your teeth in.” 

“Any particular… part of the face?” 

“What do you mean, part of the face?” Ryan took another puff, then gave it back. 

Shane inhaled, then exhaled and leaned back, his hair practically standing on end. It looked very soft, and Ryan wanted to run his fingers through it. “Like… you know. There’s the nose, eyebrows, cheeks -”

“I know the parts of the face,” Ryan interrupted. “I’m just wondering why you’d ask that, specifically.”

“People don’t have enough mouth to just… bite a face,” said Shane. “You’d need to choose a bit to bite first.” This seemed to strike him as incredibly funny and he began to cackle, curling forward, his forehead against his knees. There was a lot of bend in Shane’s spine - a _lot_. Who knew someone could have that much bend in their spine?

“I’m creative,” Ryan said. He was staring, staring hard enough that he was forgetting how to blink until he had to do it manually, carefully blinking. His eyelids rasped across his eyeballs, and it would have been unpleasant except it was happening somewhere else. His mouth was dry and his spit was made of quicksilver, little balls of metal rolling on his tongue. More metal. “I’m full of metal,” he told Shane. 

“This is hitting you pretty hard, huh?” Shane made a vague gesture with his hands, and the smoke trailed after it. 

“Eh,” said Ryan. He had a lot of feelings that wanted to come out of his mouth and clatter onto the floor. 

“Just 'eh?' Usually you’re more elaborate about that. Elaborate on that. If you want to.” Shane seemed to be losing the plot. In fairness, so had Ryan. 

“There are some faces that should be bitten,” said Ryan. “Some… some faces are good for biting.” He was trying not to stare at Shane’s profile. God, Shane had a nice profile. 

“What makes for a good, bite-worthy face?” Shane took a deep pull and then exhaled. The smoke was like mist - it was like being in Silent Hill, only not, because nothing was trying to eat their faces. 

“Nothing is trying to eat our faces,” Ryan said, with some authority. “Thankfully. We don’t wanna get eaten by any nurses.”

“You’re losing me, Ry-guy,” said Shane, and he patted Ryan on the knee as he handed Ryan the joint back. “Also, you didn’t answer my question.”

“You have a nice face,” Ryan said, and fuck, he shouldn’t have said that. It was just coming out of his mouth. The little metal ball rolled down and bumped against Shane’s foot. Shane would pick it up and see it, and he’d know all of Ryan’s thoughts.

… except not, because Ryan was really fucking high but even he wasn’t high enough to think that Shane could read his mind. Probably.

“Thanks,” said Shane. “I grew it myself.” 

There was a beat and then the both of them were laughing again, loud, snorting laughter. There were actual tears dripping down Ryan’s face, and his chest was tight from smoking and from how hard it was to breathe just now.

“Fuck,” said Ryan, then; “you’re wasting that smoke.”

“Hm?” Shane looked at Ryan, one eyebrow raised.

“The smoke,” said Ryan. “We’re wasting it.” A very stupid idea was beginning to come to fruition in his mind and he didn’t know how to shut it down. It was a bit like slamming on a car's brakes, but the pedal was going all the way to the floor.

… his brain made one of those convoluted connections that happen when you’re high, and he was staring off into the middle distance, trying to remember the name of the bad guy in _Misery_ , when Shane’s fingers snapped in front of his face.

“Ryan,” said Shane, “this joint is done.”

He held it up and it was, indeed, smoked down to a roach. 

“Let’s smoke another one,” said Ryan, which was _another_ profoundly stupid idea. He was already well on his way to uncomfortably high - the room was spinning around him, and he was aware of each of his thoughts as individual entities, rattling around inside the great vault that was his mind. 

“You sure?” Shane's expression was thoughtful.

“I mean, if you don’t want to -”

“No, no, I want to,” Shane said quickly. “Although, what were you saying about us wasting the smoke?”

“I’m just saying,” Ryan said, as his stupid idea flowed out of him like so much water, “If we shotgunned we’d be getting more out of the smoke. Because we’d both be enjoying it.”

“Mhm,” said Shane. He looked unimpressed.

“Of course,” Ryan added, “If you’re not interested, we can -”

“I’d be willing,” Shane interrupted. “Just... surprised.” 

“Why surprised?” 

Ryan stood up, his legs wobbling, and then he sat down heavily and burst into a fit of giggles. Everything was spinning, and he seemed to be inhabiting some kind of nice place just to the left of his own shoulder. 

Shane laughed too, even as he picked up another joint to hold it between two fingers and flicked the lighter with his other hand. “If you want to shotgun, you have to be next to me,” he told Ryan. “I don’t think you’d want me to sit in your lap.”

_Oh god, yes please_ , flashed through Ryan’s mind, and he clamped his teeth together to keep it from sliding out of his mouth. “Gimme a minute, big guy,” he said instead, and then he stood up again and flopped onto the couch. They were close enough that their thighs pressed together. There were _acres_ of couch on either side of them, but they stayed squished together.

“I’ve never done this with someone else,” Shane warned, as he put the joint down and leaned heavily back into the couch. The tip of the joint smoldered, a little bright spot of red. 

“You have to do it with someone, if you’re shotgunning,” said Ryan. “That’s how it works.” Then; “Wait, why are you surprised?”

Shane took a deep pull of the joint, his face going a little redder and his chest expanding as he inhaled. Then he pressed his forehead up against Ryan’s and exhaled smoke, right into Ryan’s face. 

Ryan did his best to inhale it, although it was a little hard to do - it was coming at him in a more scattered way instead of directly from a joint. He coughed and leaned back, and Shane gave him a thump on the back.

“Let me… let me try it,” said Ryan, his voice rough, and he took the joint, putting it to his lips. He took a deep draw, and then he… pressed his mouth against Shane’s, and Shane’s mouth opened up. Ryan remembered, at the last minute, to hold Shane’s nose closed as well, and then he was exhaling right into Shane’s mouth. 

Shane just breathed it all in, his lips dry and warm against Ryan’s. They sat like that for a lot longer than Ryan thought possible, until Shane pulled back and exhaled in a long, low wheeze. He coughed once, twice, and then he grinned at Ryan, his eyes glazed. “Y’know,” Shane said casually, “if you want to kiss me, maybe next time try not to make me pass out.”

“W-what?” Ryan sat back quickly, blushing. “No, that was… that wasn’t a kiss.”

“Your lips were on my lips,” said Shane. “That’s a pretty classic definition of a kiss.”

“It’s not a kiss if it’s CPR,” Ryan countered. 

“And what, this is CPR?” Shane looked unimpressed, but also very stoned. It was an interesting combination. 

“It’s… marijuana-induced CPR,” said Ryan.

“Are you going to do it again?” Shane leaned back into the couch, his eyes half-closed. His chest rose and fell, and Ryan wanted desperately to put his hand on Shane’s stomach to feel it inflate and deflate. 

“I dunno,” Ryan said casually. “Do you want me to?”

“I’d rather kiss you, if it’s all the same,” said Shane. “Not that shotgunning isn’t hot, but still.” 

Ryan’s mouth was still dry. His tongue like a wrung-out sponge, with the memory of wetness but mostly dry. His heart beat very loudly in his ears. “You’d rather kiss me?”

“I was kinda hoping that we wouldn’t have this conversation when, like… making words wasn't quite so difficult,” said Shane, his expression rueful. “Then again, I’m not really making words. These are words that already exist. I’m just using them in new ways. Or not even new ways. Plenty of people have used them this way.” Shane grabbed for the joint and took a long toke, and then he… grabbed Ryan by the back of the neck, yanking him closer so they were mouth to mouth. Shane gently squeezed Ryan’s nose shut and exhaled again, harder. 

Ryan inhaled, more out of instinct than anything else. The smoke was still vile; it tasted like charred cookies and something revoltingly organic. Ryan’s head was tight, and the pressure was building and building. His heart beat faster in his ears, louder… and then Shane’s tongue was in his mouth. 

Shane let go of Ryan’s nose and Ryan took a deep breath, his head still hurting, his lungs screaming. He exhaled, smoke coming out of his nose and across Shane’s face. Shane’s big hand was on his face, Shane’s fingertips tracing his jawline. 

Ryan pulled back, panting. “You didn’t tell me you liked men,” Ryan said, when he could think in a straight line. He wasn’t exactly aided by the way Shane’s fingers were just… feeling along his face.

“It honestly didn’t come up,” said Shane. HIs breath smelled like weed. “And you can’t grow facial hair, oh my god.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” said Ryan. “We’re having a deep, emotional conversation and you’re commenting on my facial hair growth?” 

“I can’t help it,” said Shane. “I’m aware of… every bit of myself right now, including the bits of myself that are touching your face. You’ve got stubble on, like, bits of your face, but not on other bits of your face.”

“At least I didn’t shave my eyebrow off once,” Ryan said. They were pressed so close together that his lips were moving against Shane’s, and that was a weird sensation. So was the fact that the joint was almost burnt down. 

“I told you that in confidence,” Shane groused, and then he leaned back to take another pull of the joint.

Ryan was ready this time. He let his mouth fall open, let Shane pinch his nose closed, let Shane blow more smoke into his mouth and down his throat. He breathed it in, and his head spun from the lack of air, from the marijuana, from all of it. He was kissing Shane, and he was almost entirely sure that this was a real thing that was happening. 

Wait.

Ryan pulled back, exhaling more smoke, and Shane licked his own lips. “Is this really happening?” Ryan’s mind was racing, although he wasn’t sure which track it was using.

“Am I really kissing you, you mean?” Shane sounded faintly befuddled. “I should be. I think I am. It seems to be.”

"Does this count as kissing, or is it just, like... uh, like CPR? Because, uh, it's _kind_ of like CPR. Only for weed. Because weed is important too. Not like... not like air, obviously, but still important. Maybe it's important because it's expensive."

"I didn't pay for this," said Shane. 

It was an especially odd conversation to be having when they were more or less nose to nose. Ryan could have counted Shane's eyelashes.

"So does that mean that you don't want to waste the smoke?" Ryan was having trouble keeping his thoughts vaguely coherent. He was so _aware_ of all the places they were touching each other, how solid and warm Shane was. 

"No, I don't think anything should be wasted," said Shane. 

"Is that why you lick guac off of your shirt?" The mental image slid into Ryan's head like a snake and he giggled, his hands going to Shane's shoulders to keep his balance. 

"No," said Shane, "I do that 'cause guac is _delicious_ and I wouldn't want to waste it. And weed might be gross, but it's... effort is put into it."

"Is it?" Ryan blinked, and his eyelashes brushed against Shane's cheek. 

"Is what?" 

"I don't fuckin' know," Ryan said, and then he was laughing again. 

And Shane kissed him. Shane's mouth was dry, and his tongue was awkward as it probed the inside of Ryan's mouth. Ryan opened his mouth again and breathed in deeply again, even though he didn't need to. He was being pushed onto his back, and then Shane pulled back, breathing heavily. 

"So that's real kissing," said Shane. "I mean, there wasn't any... exhaling. We just kissed. That was real kissing." 

"Real kissing," Ryan echoed. 

"So do you want to keep kissing me? Or do you want to not kiss me?" Shane took another pull from the joint, and this time he didn't offer to share it with Ryan. 

Ryan wasn't sure if he wanted Shane to share or not. Both his feelings and the weed. Was Ryan already too stoned, or was he just the right amount of stoned? Was there even a right amount of stoned?

"I want to," Ryan said finally, because as stoned as he was he didn't have it in him to filter at present. He had feelings and those feelings wanted to get out, mind like a bank vault be damned. "I want to kiss you a lot. Like... both I have a lot of wanting and also I want it a lot." 

Shane snorted, and he cupped the side of Ryan's head, his thumb tracing over the curve of Ryan's jaw. "I don't want you to kiss me if it's just 'cause you're stoned and horny." 

"What makes you think I'm horny?" 

"You won't deny the stoned part?" Shane snickered, smoke leaking out of his mouth. 

"That feels like a level of denial even _you_ can't really engage in," said Ryan.

"Considering the boner you're sporting there, claiming that you're not horny would be a pretty strong denial as well," Shane said, and sounding amused. 

Ryan snorted. "Why are you looking in the first place?" 

"Because weed always makes _me_ horny," Shane said, and he handed Ryan the half-gone joint. "I was curious if it did the same thing. To you, I mean."

Ryan took a pull himself - a long, deep one, the smoke going deep into his lungs. He held it for as long as he could, then exhaled. The smoke swirled around him, and he sighed, his eyes half-closed. "I mean," said Ryan. "I, uh...."

"I also know you've got some kind of feelings for me," said Shane, giving Ryan a canny look.

"Everyone has some kind of feelings towards everyone," Ryan fired back. "That's the way people work. You interact with people like people and it's feelings."

Shane frowned, his expression comically serious, and that got Ryan cackling, leaning into the back of the couch. Shane's whole face scrunched up, and he was clearly trying to think of _something_. Eventually, he opened his mouth and spoke. "I feel like I should say something. If this is horniness brought on by weed, we probably shouldn't be doing any kind of thing, because weed-induced making out is usually unpleasant."

"We already made out," said Ryan, his brain catching on to that bit, because of course it was. 

"I thought that was like... weed CPR," said Shane. 

"No, that's called shotgunning," said Ryan.

"So we shotgunned?" 

"Yeah. We shotgunned." 

"Does shotgunning usually involve tongues?" Shane wore a "checkmate!" expression that made Ryan want to kiss him all over again.

"I dunno," Ryan said. "I've never done it before. Maybe it does." 

"So if I were to put the joint down and just put my mouth against yours, you'd protest, because it's not true shotgunning?"

"... I didn't say that," Ryan said, flushing. 

"Can you just come out and _say_ what you're thinking?" Shane looked actually annoyed. It moved across his face at a glacial pace, no doubt slowed down by the weed. "I know that Midwestern folks are supposed to be oblique, but Jesus fuckin' Christ!"

"What if I ruin it?" Ryan rubbed his hands together, rocking on the couch. 

"Ruin what?" Shane looked perplexed now, although that moved a little faster. 

"You know... it!" Ryan made a big gesture, indicating... well, everything.  
\  
“No,” said Shane. “I don’t. Be more specific.” 

“You can pick up nuance the rest of the time, just not when I’m having a lot of feelings, huh?” Ryan made a frustrated face.

“How much weed have we both ingested?”

“We’re not ingesting it,” said Ryan. “We’d have to make it into food. Brownies or whatever.” 

“Why do people even put it in brownies? That tastes disgusting.” Shane’s nose wrinkled, and then he frowned a little harder. “Also, you’re getting bogged down with minutiae.”

Ryan made a vague hand motion. “Meh,” said Ryan. 

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re so worried about,” said Shane. “Are you worried about work? Me and Sara work together and we’re doing great!”

“You and Sara don’t work together the way you and I work together,” Ryan countered. 

“Fair enough,” said Shane. “If things went pear-shaped, they’d be… especially pear-shaped.” 

“Like more pear than a pear?” 

“Yeah,” said Shane. “Exactly. “But… I don’t let pears stop me.”

“Don’t be impeded by produce,” Ryan agreed.

“I like to think that I _produce_ a decent amount of content,” Shane said, which got Ryan snickering, and then Shane just… smiled at him, his eyes sweet. 

Ryan took another pull of the joint and took the plunge. “So… I like you. I like you a lot. I want to keep kissing you, I want to… I want to fuck you, I want to… I want to do a whole bunch of other stuff, but I’m really fuckin’ high. It’s hard to, like… think of the future like this.”

“You’ve thought of the future?” Shane’s eyebrow kept climbing.

“I mean,” Ryan floundered, “Not, like… the _future_ the future, but… I mean….”

Shane took one of Ryan’s hands in his own, possibly to keep Ryan from digging himself any deeper. “So you don’t just wanna fuck me?”

“I mean, I very much wanna fuck you,” said Ryan. “And… and other stuff. Not other feelings stuff,” he said quickly, before Shane could butt in. “Like, maybe… maybe I want to go out on a date with you, or some shit like that. But I _also_ want to do, like… sexy stuff. That’s not fucking.”

“What does ‘fucking’ mean in this context, out of curiosity?” Shane beckoned for the joint and Ryan made to hand it back… and then took a pull of it. He held the smoke in his mouth and he leaned forward. Shane leaned in as well and opened his mouth against Ryan’s, inhaling when Ryan exhaled. Smoke came out of his nose. 

“I want to kiss you,” said Ryan, his voice quiet. “Without weed. Or… I want to kiss you sober. And stoned, and drunk and... however else. I want to keep kissing you. Right now. Without smoke. I’d like… I’d like to do other things. With you.”

“So you’ve said,” said Shane. “You wanna.. ..maybe finish this joint, and then maybe make out some or something like that?”

“You make it sound like we’re high schoolers in a back seat,” said Ryan, although his heart was still beating very fast. 

"Is there some new, cool way of describing vigorously making out with someone, maybe with a little bit of dry humping mixed in to spice it up?"

"Spice things up," Ryan echoed. There was barely any weed left in the joint, and he took a long, deep pull - he would have gone so far as to call it indulgent. The smoke filled his whole head like a room, and then he exhaled again and put the last of the joint on the saucer he'd been using as an ashtray.

... why did he _have_ a saucer in the first place? It wasn't like he had a tea set.. 

"So, whaddaya say?" Shane gave him a Groucho Marx-esque grin, complete with an eyebrow waggle. 

"I think that this is the weirdest proposition that I've ever gotten," Ryan said. 

"You need to get out more, if that's the case," Shane said, with some finality. 

Ryan snorted, but he leaned in until his forehead was against Shane's. "I feel like making out when we're both this high might be kind of weird," he said. 

"Any particular reason why?" Shane's eyes fluttered closed, his hands spanning across Ryan’s ribs, his palms hot and solid through the thin fabric of Ryan's t-shirt. 

"Dry mouth," said Ryan. "There are fuckin'... camels fording between my molars."

"I think that you only ford water," said Shane. This close, Ryan couldn't see his face scrunch up in thought. He could feel it, though. 

"But you get the point," said Ryan. "Right?"

Shane shrugged and leaned in further, his nose against Ryan's cheek, his lips dry and a little chapped. "I still want to kiss you," he told Ryan. "Unless you're giving me a soft "no" and I'm just being too much of a clueless dude to pick up on it."

Ryan snorted. "You're not gonna say something like you're buying into the patriarchy or some shit like that?" His fingers traced along the length of Shane's sideburns - the hair was a little stiffer there, a little wirier. It was an interesting sensation under his fingers. 

"I'm not too stoned to conceptualize the idea of the patriarchy," Shane said slowly. His hand was up the back of Ryan's shirt, his palms skating across the dimples at the base of Ryan's spine and then pressing his thumbs into them. "But I think I'm too stoned to, like... go into detail about it. Without a good deal of navel gazing."

"So how is that different from your usual self?" Ryan's hands were at the back of Shane's neck, marveling at how the curve of his skull fit into Ryan's palm. 

"Oh, shut up, Ryan," groused Shane. "Do you want to make out with me or not?"

Instead of answering, Ryan pulled Shane closer, almost smashing their faces together. He kissed Shane, and he would kiss Shane, and he was kissing Shane - all those different tenses for the same act. Wasn't grammar nice, finding all those interesting ways to share knowledge?

"Ryan, you're mumbling," Shane said, his voice vibrating through his lips to Ryan's. It made Ryan's teeth buzz. 

"Sorry," said Ryan, although he wasn't, not really. He moved his hands down to Shane's shoulders, and then he just... flopped backwards, pulling Shane on top of him.

Shane grunted against Ryan's mouth and nibbled on Ryan's lower lip, little pinches that seemed to explode like starbursts behind Ryan's eyes. He climbed on top of Ryan and there weren't any feet on the floor, it was just the two of them tangled on the couch. 

Ryan kissed Shane like he had all the time in the world. He kind of did, didn't he? Who knew what time was, when it was passing so slowly - or maybe so quickly? How could he tell? When he closed his eyes he could feel the world spinning under him, the universe turning on its axis all around him. He was aware of every inch of his body that was pressed against Shane's, and of the way that Shane's heart was thudding away. He tasted the inside of Shane's mouth (it didn't taste like much of anything), and he followed the lines of Shane's face to the tendons in his neck, the ones on the insides of his wrists. He counted Shane's ribs, lost count, and counted again, and Shane chuckled against his lips and squeezed Ryan's biceps, pecs, and shoulders. 

Shane pulled back and his lips were shiny. "You have a nice mouth, even when it isn't full of smoke," Shane said, his tone earnest, and Ryan wheezed, trying to catch his breath. Fucking... Shane. 

That was a nice thought - fucking Shane. He was trying to think of a way to breach the topic - _So, you wanna maybe ride my dick?_ when Shane's hand rested on his hip and moved in, tentatively. 

"Would you, uh... be interested in anything?" Shane cleared his throat, and he looked faintly bashful. 

"Didn't you say that you wanted to do some dry humping to spice things up?" Ryan licked his lips - his tongue was still as dry as a goddamn piece of wood. His cock throbbed, the tip wet, and he ground his hips forward. Okay. So some types of wood weren't dry. 

"Yeah, but that was old Shane." 

“Old Shane,” Ryan echoed. 

“Old Shane was a very boring guy,” said Shane. 

“The Shane of… what, fifteen minutes ago?” Ryan’s tone was flat - he was trying to sound teasing, although he wasn’t very good at it when everything was spinning around him. “That sure is an old Shane.”

“A very old Shane.” Shane’s hand moved lower, into Ryan’s pants. “So I’ve apparently been causing you so much turmoil. How about I suck your dick?” 

Ryan blinked, trying to get his thoughts in order. “What?” 

Shane’s hand went to Ryan’s wrist, pulling Ryan’s hand towards his face. He kissed Ryan’s palm, then licked it, which… okay, that was weird, but it was still doing _things_ to Ryan’s dick. Ryan’s gut was twisting, and his cock was twitching in his jeans. He wanted… what did he want?

He wanted everything, although at least some of that was probably the weed. Was there some equivalent of… emotional munchies? He wanted to gorge himself on affection, on lust, until he couldn’t move. 

Shane’s lips wrapped around the tip of Ryan’s fingers as their eye contact held. He bobbed his head forward, taking Ryan’s index finger deeper into his mouth. His tongue swiped across the bottom of it, traced along the creases of Ryan’s knuckles, and then he hollowed his cheeks out. The suction was hot and wet, and Ryan blushed so hard that his head hurt. Or maybe it was a headache from the weed. That was a distinct possibility. 

“You’re, uh… you’re good at that,” Ryan said weakly. 

Shane smiled around Ryan’s finger, and he used his grip on Ryan’s wrist to push Ryan’s finger deeper into his mouth until he gagged. He pulled Ryan’s finger out of his mouth and then kissed the tip. “So,” he said. “It’d be like that. Only with your dick.”

Ryan licked his lips. They were very dry. “You should drink some water first,” he said, and his voice was rough. “For the, uh, for the cotton mouth.”

Shane snickered. “You sure are a thoughtful dude, aren’t you?” He stood up, carefully, and then he wobbled. He leaned heavily on the back of the couch and then took a careful step. 

“I do my best,” said Ryan. “To be thoughtful to… potential blowjob-givers.” He watched as Shane staggered towards the kitchen, reaching down and unzipping his pants. He shoved them down around his thighs, sighing at the relief of pressure as he wrapped a hand around his cock and squeezed it. Fuck. He was so high. His head tilted back. Everything was happening at once, and it was just… it was. 

He covered his face with one hand and breathed, his chest rising and falling like a boat. People were like boats, only the salt was on the inside. Some of it was leaking out of his cock, spreading out along his shaft. Everyone had originally crawled out of the ocean, and now here they were, with a little bit of the ocean dripping down his hand. 

“Ryan, you’re jerking off and staring into space,” said Shane, and Ryan was jerked (heh - so much jerking) out of his reverie. 

“I mean,” said Ryan, “I just call that a Friday night.” This struck him as, quite possibly, the funniest shit in the world, and he started to giggle and then to laugh a full-on cackling hyena laugh. He laughed so hard that his dick was possibly getting harder, and who knew that was a thing that could happen? Laughing so hard that his head hurt and it was hard to breathe, until there were tears dripping down his face. 

“Shall I leave you and your… which hand is that? I can’t tell.” Shane squinted down at Ryan’s lap. 

“Oh my god, Shane,” Ryan cackled, and covering his face with his other hand, wheezing. “Oh my god. You fucking… Jesus fucking Christ, Shane.” He pressed his face into the couch cushions, still laughing so hard that his stomach was starting to hurt. 

“Shut up, Ryan,” said Shane, and then he grabbed the waistband of Ryan’s pants and yanked them all the way down and off, leaving Ryan’s legs completely bare. “You didn’t even let me undress you. I could have unveiled you like a tender flower, petal by petal.”

That was even funnier, and Ryan laughed harder, his face hot enough that he was legitimately worried about something important bursting. It couldn’t be _that_ important, if it was burst by laughing, right?

"Ryan," said Shane, spreading Ryan's legs, his big hands squeezing Ryan's inner thighs. One of Ryan's feet was resting on the floor, and the other was more or less... thrown over the back of the couch. "Ryan, I am legitimately worried you're going to die."

Ryan’s stoned brain made a connection, and was a Titanic reference in there somewhere - _draw me like one of your French girls?_ \- but Ryan couldn't grasp it. "We're all gonna die," Ryan wheezed. "It's part of the human condition."

"Ryan, you can be existential-stoned or giggly-stoned," Shane said, his voice cross. He settled awkwardly between Ryan's spread thighs and wrapped a hand around Ryan's cock, giving it a long, slow stroke. "You can't go for both. It gets confusing." 

Ryan's eyes rolled back in his head, and he humped into the channel of Shane's fist. The pleasure was already building in his gut, at the base of his skull, between his shoulder blades. He was going to come like a fucking geyser, when the time came. When the time came in creamy, gooey spurts all over his chest. He was laughing again. 

"I'm never getting you this high again," Shane said. "You clearly can't take anything seriously." He bent his ridiculously long neck forward, and his equally ridiculous big head was over Ryan's crotch. 

"It's... great," Ryan said, then; "You're great." His hand went down to run his fingers through Shane's hair, then to trace the edge of one of his ears.

"Aw, you charmer," Shane said, and he gave a full-body shiver, his expression going faintly blissed out. "That's... nice." His breath was very hot across the tip of Ryan's cock, and it was taking effort for Ryan to refrain from pushing his hips forward. 

"S'that all you can come up with? Nice? Not very creative, is it?" Ryan tugged on Shane's hair, although he was still giggling, one hand over his mouth to muffle it. The head of his cock dragged across Shane's rough cheek - Shane was already getting some stubble. 

Shane rolled his eyes and then he turned his head to the side, bending further forward. He kept one hand wrapped around Ryan's cock, mouthing along the shaft, the tip of his tongue following the path of the biggest vein. His thumb rested on the slit, spreading more wetness along it, and that was... that was a lot. This was all a lot. 

There was a lot of noise coming from somewhere. Neighbors? Or was someone playing a record over and over? A record that... said Shane's name. Oh. That was him. Huh. 

Shane's mouth closed around the head of Ryan's cock, his cheeks hollowing out, his tongue flickering along the frenulum and making Ryan see stars. Maybe. And then... Shane made eye contact. The bastard had the audacity to _wink_ , like something out of... Ryan didn't know what it was like something out of, but goddamn it. Shane somehow managed to look smug and faintly supercilious with a mouthful of cock. It wasn't fair.

Ryan retaliated by bucking his hips forward, which actually wasn't very nice and he tried to stop himself doing it even as he did it, so that the head of his cock barely brushed against the back of Shane's throat before it withdrew again. Shane's throat squeezed him as Shane gagged, but then... fuck, Shane grabbed Ryan's hip, his thumb digging in. Ryan gasped because all of his nerves seemed to be that much _more_ , and he could feel every bit of it - every inch of Shane's throat, the bunched up fabric where his shirt was riding up, his heart trying to escape his ribcage. 

It all happened at once, and when he closed his eyes he was spinning, and all that mattered was the way that Shane's head was bobbing on his cock, the wetness of Shane's mouth, and the slickness of Shane's tongue. And then Shane pulled off and pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to the crown of Ryan's cock. "Ry?" His voice was rough from smoke and from sucking Ryan off, and it made Ryan shudder.

"Mmm?" Ryan prised his eyes open and blinked, trying to get the couch to stop moving quite so much. Fuck, but Shane looked _debauched_ , his eyes red and his lips redder. 

"You want me to finger you?" Shane licked his lips and looked vaguely embarrassed. 

"What, right now?" Ryan realized with a start that he must have been... open in this position. Very open. All his various... whatnot on display. Oh _god_. 

"Yeah," said Shane. "If you're, uh, if you're up for it."

"What's inspired that urge, outta curiosity?" Ryan clutched at the couch to keep from falling off of it, because it seemed to be undulating. His blood pounded through him like the bass of a particularly repetitive dubstep song - was it gonna drop soon? What would happen if it dropped?

"The last time I gave a guy a blowjob and fingered him, he came so hard that he claimed he saw the face of a god," said Shane, as if that was just a _thing_ you said. "I figure you'd appreciate it."

"Oh," said Ryan. "Yeah, I'd appreciate that. I've always wanted to meet a god." 

"Only you, Ry," said Shane, his tone affectionate. “Do you have lube?”

“... somewhere,” said Ryan. “I don’t think I could get it right now.”

“We can improvise,” said Shane, although he sounded as if he was convincing himself. 

“I’ve used spit for lube before, y’know,” said Ryan. “Just… don’t stick anything bigger than your fingers in me, ‘kay?” 

“What else would I put in you?” Shane snickered, and it sent weird air currents across Ryan’s balls. Not that Ryan was complaining too hard. 

“Your _dick_ ,” Ryan said, and it struck him as funny andhe giggled all over again as Shane made an annoyed noise. Then Ryan squawked. 

Shane had licked his hole and now his tongue swirled along the rim, plunging inside. Various nerves that Ryan didn’t usually pay much attention to were firing off, and Ryan’s hips jerked forward as he threw his head back. His heels dug into Shane’s back, and Shane moaned and Ryan could feel his drool - there would to be a wet spot. Oh well. 

Ryan humped against Shane’s mouth, and this time he was more or less aware of the noises that he was making, although he couldn’t really do anything to stop them. They clattered out of his mouth - all those little balls of mercury swirling against his teeth as they spilled out into the air. 

He was probably saying embarrassing things, come to think of it. Things that he should have thought about a bit more before he let them tumble out of him, but fuck it. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensations. Who needed weed when he could get high off of _this_. 

Although the weed was a good bonus. They’d have to do this while sober. (It said something about how high Ryan was, that he was willing to consider that Shane would want to do this sober. But that wasn’t a rabbit he was going to chase just yet). 

Shane kissed up Ryan’s thigh, and then he sucked on his own fingers. He made eye contact with Ryan - when had Ryan opened his eyes? - as he fucked his own mouth with his fingers, which made Ryan whimper, his cock twitching against Shane’s cheek. 

“God, Shane,” Ryan moaned. “God, Shane, fuck, you’re… oh!” 

“Y’know,” Shane said, his tone conversational, “As high as you are, I’m a bit worried you won’t actually know when you want me to stop.” Two of his fingers slid into Ryan as easy as a secret, and the breach of it was familiar and alien at the same time. “I feel like I could have my fingers so deep in you they’re coming out of your mouth and you’d still be begging for more.”

“I’d probably be a bit garbled, if your fingers were… were coming out of my… mouth, _fuck_ , Shane,” Ryan gasped, because Shane’s fingers were curling and they’d found his prostate. Ryan was indeed seeing the face of a god, provided said god’s face looked like the lights you got behind your eyes when you rubbed them too hard. 

Shane probably had something pithy to say in response to that, but Ryan honestly wasn’t paying attention and then Shane’s mouth was on his cock. Shane’s mouth was on his cock, and Shane’s head bobbed, his other hand (how many hands did Shane have, anyway?!) held onto Ryan’s thigh.His fingers dug in, dimpling the skin. 

Ryan moaned to the ceiling while humping awkwardly, shallowly. His toes curled and he tried not to thrash too hard, both because he didn’t want to dislodge Shane and he didn’t want to fall off of the couch. His mind was a great, big, open meadow, and pleasure was growing over it like grass, covering him in a carpet. He was going to become like the soil and dissolve into a million tiny particles - 

“Ryan,” Shane said, and Ryan groaned because the air was shockingly cold on his dick, “You’re babbling nonsense.”

“It’s your fault,” Ryan grumbled, and then he sobbed as Shane’s fingers twitched inside of him. 

“How is it my fault that you’re babbling nonsense?” Shane’s fingers were doing interesting things and Ryan’s hips were still jerking forward, trying to get more of it. 

Ryan’s cock had drooled enough precome that it was making a puddle in Ryan’s shirt. Maybe that was why Ryan had such bad cottonmouth - all the moisture in his body had gone from his mouth to his cock, to drip down his shaft. “You… got me this high. And this horny!” Ryan opened his eyes to make eye contact with Shane, but Shane’s eyes were closed.

Shane’s eyes were closed and his mouth was open, and then his mouth was closed again - closed around Ryan’s cock, and Shane’s mouth was hot and squeezing, soft and flexible. God, it was… it was like getting a blowjob. 

There had to be other good descriptions, but Ryan was having trouble being witty or interesting, even inside of his own head. It was a bit like the marijuana had stripped him of whatever part of him was cool and clever for the camera; not the actual camera, manned by TJ and sitting in its home in the equipment storage room in Buzzfeed HQ. No, this was the camera in his own head, the little voice that was always pushing him to be more, to be better. The little bit of self consciousness that was there to tell him just how dumb he looked, how Shane would laugh at him.

Shane wasn’t laughing - Shane was moaning, his throat making wet, filthy noises and his hips working as he… humped Ryan’s couch. Shane seemed to be giving it his all, and didn’t Ryan want to do the same, if only to not embarrass Shane?

… maybe that stupid camera was still there after all, but fuck it. Sure, the echoing emptiness brought on by the loss of his inner critic was faintly unnerving, but _fuck_ , the things Shane’s tongue were doing….

Ryan’s hips bucked, and Shane just… took it. Swallowed around it, sucking, his cheeks hollowed out. He made the kind of noises you heard in a certain class of porno, and his fingers were so long and solid in Ryan’s ass. They pressed down hard enough that it was starting to hurt, and Ryan would have said something but the pleasure was starting to build. 

The spinning around him intensified - he was stupidly high, he could tell - and so did the pressure behind his eyes. He was reminded, inexplicably, of Shane holding his nose and blowing smoke into his mouth. He held the sense memory in his mind like a crystal - _burnt gingerbread, lungs burning, heart screaming in his ears_ \- and then his orgasm washed over him. The pleasure was hot, like stepping into a shower, and it erupted from his groin and spread outwards. The muscle spasms were enough to leave him completely slack, riding his body like a passenger. 

Ryan cried out, his voice rough and broken and his hips snapping forward, and Shane pulled off to cough.. He made a disgusted noise as Ryan’s come got on his face and hair. His fingers weren’t in Ryan’s ass anymore. He wiped his face off with his clean hand, and he… he rocked back onto his heels and shoved his pants down hurriedly. “You’re gonna have to do laundry,” Ryan said, which wasn’t really a sexy thing to say, come to think of it, and Shane gave him a Look. 

Shane’s cock was long and lean, like he was, and the phrase _matching penis_ dashed across Ryan’s mind like a long distance streaker. “I’m… so close,” Shane mumbled, “but I don’t think you want me to, uh, to come on your couch.” He hunched forward, his knees pressing into Ryan’s thigh.

“Hold on,” said Ryan, and sat up awkwardly, his legs still spread wide open but putting them close enough that Shane could press their foreheads together. He wrapped his fingers around Shane’s cock, stroking it, his palm against the ridge and his fingers squeezing along the shaft. He jerked Shane off, and fuck, that wasn’t how he’d planned for the night to go But Shane shuddered against his fingers and his face went open and ugly, too lost in sensation to be self conscious. 

Shane’s cock was silky smooth against Ryan’s palm, and hot to the touch. Ryan wanted to just _feel_ it - memorize the dimensions, the sensations of the different parts of it. He wanted to rub it on his face and feel it in his mouth. 

… on the other hand, if he tried to bend forward right now he might pass out or go to sleep so this slightly awkward hand job would have to do for now. “I’ll get you off properly next time,” Ryan said, and it was only after he’d said it that he realized the implications. Eh, fuck it. 

“It’s… fine, Ryan, next time let’s just… mmm, let’s just be… sober. Fuck, Ryan, yeah, with your… a little… _oh_!”

Shane came with very little fanfare. One minute he panted against Ryan’s temple, the next his cock was pulsed in Ryan’s hand and come spurted across Ryan’s knuckles. Ryan jerked him through it, milking the last of the orgasm out until Shane shoved his hand away and flopped back. 

There was a moment of silence as the… gravity? Enormity? Of what they’d done sank in. Then Ryan took the plunge.

“... If I say something really stupid right now, would you judge me too badly?” Ryan’s voice was nervous. 

“Nope,” said Shane. He reached out and grabbed Ryan’s hand - he made a resigned noise as his fingers touched his own semen. “Although if it’s really stupid I may hold on to it for blackmail purposes.”

“That’s encouraging,” Ryan groused. “Blackmail.”

“It’ll be nice blackmail,” Shane said, and then yawned so wide that his jaw cracked. That couldn’t have been a nice sensation, but he seemed unbothered. 

“What do you mean, nice blackmail? That’s an oxymoron!”

“ _You’re_ an oxymoron,” Shane fired back, setting them both to laughing again. That was a relief - at least they were still laughing, right?

“... I could really go for some Doritos right now,” Ryan said, his tone contemplative. 

“Let’s wash the jizz off,” Shane said, “And then we can go from there.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Ryan agreed. 

He was probably going to panic a lot in the near future, although there were a few more joints to stave that off. Theoretically. In the meantime… well, Doritos. And Shane. 

Pretty winning mix, all things considered.


End file.
